Unprofessional
by sue-sylvester-shuffle
Summary: Nastasia has been having nightmares. Bleck only wants to help.


It was no later than three in the morning. Count Bleck was wandering up to bed, after spending hours studying the Dark Prognosticus. He was exhausted and all he wanted was to sleep. But first, he had to check on all his minions. To make sure they were sleeping and not bleeding to death somewhere. When you were the enemy of such dangerous heroes such as Mario, you always had to check.

So he went along the hallway where they all slept. His room was at the far end, and the other minions' rooms were all on one side, leading up to his door.

The first door was O'Chunks's. He peeked inside. O'Chunks was draped over his bed, snoring loudly. Bleck sighed and went to the next door.

This was Mr L's room. Mr L was lying on the floor, his face covered with a page of Brobot blueprints. Bleck reached up and switched off the light, and then he went to the next door.

This was Mimi's. When he got into her room, he saw that she was in a similar position to Mr L's. She was lying on her bed, half-on and half-off, a little bright-pink book, decorated with hearts, clutched tightly to her chest. Bleck sighed and turned off Mimi's light, too. So far, this was exactly how it was _every _night.

But the sameness stopped when he got to Dimentio's door. Because when he went inside, Dimentio wasn't there.

"Dimentio?" he called out tentatively, feeling around for the light switch. "Dimentio, are you in-"

"Ah, Count." said Dimentio's voice from behind him.

Bleck spun around to see Dimentio standing there. He looked a bit tired.

"What are you doing out in the hallway, questioned Count Bleck?"

Dimentio sighed. "I was with Nastasia, my dear Count. Our little blue friend has been having nightmares."

That was new. "Nightmares?" repeated Bleck. "What is she dreaming…"

"Perhaps you should ask her." suggested Dimentio. There was a pause, and then he said quietly, "I'll be going to bed now, my dear Count. I am exhausted. Nastasia can be a handful sometimes… especially when she's upset."

Bleck nodded. "Thank you, Dimentio, commented Count Bleck. Sleep well."

Dimentio went into his room and closed the door, and Bleck went to Nastasia's door tentatively.

"Nastasia?" he called softly. "Are you there?"

There was a pause. And then a small voice barely recognizable as Nastasia's said, "Count…?"

Bleck went inside. Slowly he turned on the light. With the rays of light coming from the ceiling, he could see better. But what he saw made him uneasy.

Nastasia was sitting up in her bed, the covers pulled to her waist. She was clutching the sheets like a lifeline. Her glasses were on her bedside table, and Bleck could see that her eyes were filled with fear… and her blue skin was tracked with tear stains.

Bleck hurried over to her and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Dimentio said you'd been having nightmares." he said gently.

She nodded tensely. "Um, count… I… I'm sorry…"

"There's nothing to be sorry about." He leaned over toward her and wrapped his arms around her. She wrapped her arms around him, too.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked her quietly. "Maybe it would make it better to talk about it."

Without moving from his arms, Nastasia whispered, "I dreamt… I dreamt that you died." Bleck felt fresh tears falling onto the shoulder of his cloak.

Bleck took a deep breath. He was flattered that the concept of his death scared her so much… and made her cry. He squeezed her tighter. "I'm here now, Nastasia."

She buried her face in his cloak and sobbed. He didn't mind. He just held her and rubbed her back as she cried. "It's going to be okay." he whispered soothingly.

Soon Nastasia stopped crying. She went limp in his arms; she was asleep. So Bleck laid her down on her bed and pulled the blankets over her.

"Sleep tight, my dear Nastasia." he murmured.

The next morning, Count Bleck was in his room, reading over the Dark Prognosticus, when there was a tentative knock on the door.

"Come in, says Count Bleck." Bleck said absentmindedly, flipping through the yellowed pages.

The door opened slowly, and a figure came inside. Bleck looked around to see that it was Nastasia. She was standing stiffly, holding her clipboard in front of her, staring at the floor.

"Hello, Nastasia." Bleck said. "Are you feeling better?"

Nastasia blushed. "I wanted to say… I'm sorry for being so, um, needy last night." She straightened even more. "It was, um, unprofessional, and I'm sorry."

"I said it before and I'll say it again, Nastasia." Bleck sighed. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

Nastasia shook her head slowly. "I was… out of place."

"You were _terrified, _and _upset. _You were _not _out of place. I know for a fact that you would have done the same for me."

Nastasia swallowed hard. She was still staring at the floor.

"Wouldn't you?" Bleck probed deeper into Nastasia's feelings.

Nastasia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Of course I would, Count." she said.

Bleck sighed. "Come here, Nastasia."

Without looking up, Nastasia walked slowly over to Bleck. Bleck leaned down and wrapped his arms around her. Immediately she stiffened, and he whispered, "Shh. It's alright, Nastasia."

"This isn't professional." she said haltingly.

"Nastasia, no one is professional _all _the time." he said. Then, hesitating, he added, "And I like this side of you, actually. It shows me that you actually have feelings."

She looked up, eyes wide and blurry with tears. "You mean… you didn't think I had…?"

Bleck realized that may not have been the best thing to say. So hurriedly he cleared his throat. "Anyway, Nastasia…" he said. "Like I said before, no one can be professional all the time. So don't feel bad about it."

Nastasia nodded. "Um… alright, Count. I'll be going now, 'K? I have some work to do."

Bleck nodded. He released Nastasia from his arms. "I shall see you later, my dear Nastasia."

She nodded. "Um, see you, Count." And she hurried out.

Bleck stared after her, sighing. Sometime, he was going to have to tell her that she didn't have to pretend for him. He knew that, deep inside, she was hurting. For some reason… he couldn't tell just yet. But he cared about her, whether she knew it or not… and he wanted to help her.

_Someday, _he thought. _Maybe someday she'll trust me enough to tell me what's wrong._

But perhaps she had to trust herself first


End file.
